Cyprus

Ever since reading the book "Exodus" by Leon Uris 15 years ago, I have had a desire to visit Cyprus. Although the book only shed light on the refugee camps for displaced European Jews after the second  World War, the island came under my radar. I went online and researched the island, noting its vibrant history, and was immediately drawn to it and it became a must see on my bucket list.

When you find a person that is easy to travel with, they become your "go to" person when an adventure is on the horizon. For me, this has recently become my friend Annie. She is easy to get along with, spontaneous, and hilarious. She is so full of life and spirit, that when my father met her during a recent trip to Germany, he immediately nicknamed her "trouble." When I mentioned to Trouble that I was interested in visiting Cyprus, she jumped at the chance! While in Malaga, our dive instructor Elisha had mentioned that some of her favorite dives had been in Cyprus, one site at the wreck of the Zernobia in Larnaka (which unfortunately Annie and I weren't qualified to dive), and Amphitheater in Paphos. We decided that this would be the perfect trip to take in October over Columbus Day weekend, and we began to search for flights.

One major issue that had kept me from visiting Cyprus in the past was the travel to get there. I would either find no flights or really shitty flights were available during the short four day timeframe that encompassed the majority of my travels. Annie and I ran into a few roadblocks when researching flights, until one beautiful day in August when Annie had a breakthrough.

"I found a flight for us that is reasonably priced and gives us three full days in Cyprus!" Annie screamed into the phone. "The only issue is that we have REALLY bad flight times and a 12 hour layover on the way home in Belgrade, Serbia."

I pondered this for all of three seconds before realizing I had never been to Serbia before, and this could be a great opportunity to visit a new city.

"I am all in!"

And with that, we began to plan our trip.

Since I was about to leave for my three week "vacation" to Corsica, Annie took the reigns on planning our trip. She booked our hotel in Ayia Napa at a really affordable apartment rental called Margherita Apartments (It cost us less than $100 per person for three nights, and is in a fantastic location), and scheduled us for a dive on our second day in Paphos. For Serbia, she found a layover tour through trip advisor called Serbian Heritage Tours (which I will go into further detail in another post) that would pick us up at the airport, take us around Belgrade, and return us to the airport in time for our flight. The plan was set!

Annie and I live about an hour away from each other, so we planned on meeting at the airport. Our flight departed Frankfurt at 8pm, so we linked up about and hour and a half prior. With my first Starbucks pumpkin spice latte of the season in hand, we made our way through security and onto our plane with no issues, a huge feat for the two of us.

This trip had two difficult travel days. The first was getting there, which included a flight from Frankfurt at 8 pm, arriving in Serbia at 10pm. Then a two hour layover with an arrival into Larnaka at 0330. When we arrived, we were exhausted. All we wanted was to pick up our rental car and head to our hotel. Unfortunately there was a slight snafu in regards to our rental. Since we were traveling over the course of two days, Trouble made the mistake of scheduling our rental pickup for the day we left, not the day we arrived. Therefore we had no car waiting for us upon our arrival. It took us about an hour to find another company that had an affordable car for us to rent. In order to save money, and Annie's unwavering trust that as a helicopter pilot I would be able to navigate us off a map, we decided against purchasing a navigation system. This wouldn't have been an issue if Cyprus would grace the roads with street names, which they do not. This only proved difficult while attempting to navigate through cities and trying to find our hotel.

At 0430 we were on the road to Ayia Napa. While looking at a map of Cyprus, it doesn't look all that big and in reality, it isn't. You can drive from East to west in about two hours which is relatively quick. What we didn't expect was it taking an hour to get from Larnaka to Ayia Napa, and by 0530 we were exhausted. This is where having no navigation nor street signs came to be an issue. We couldn't find our hotel, and although there were a few places open, no one had a clue what we were taking about when asking directions to Margherita Apartments. It took us another hour to find the place. We checked in, dragged ourselves to bed, and said goodbye to the world.

Not wanting to waste a day sleeping, Annie forced us out of bed at 1000. This was to be our beach day, and we wanted as much time as we could get in the sun. We waddled down to the local bakery that was to be our source of nutrition for the next three days, and bought these lovely spinach and goat cheese pastries, baklava, and water. We packed up the car and headed down the road to the popular Nissi Beach.

Nissi Beach

After about two hours, we decided that we would begin the next part of our adventure. Annie had heard of a place called Cavo Greco near where we were staying that was known for beautiful cliffs that many adventurous travelers chose to dive from. Since we are both crazy, we decided that this would be the perfect way to spend our afternoon. 

We arrived at the cliffs and they were incredible! Crystal clear blue water, sun drenched rocky cliffs, and a perfect area to jump from. The height of the cliffs is approximately 15m, or 50 feet. I had never jumped from heights so high, and knowing full well my ridiculous fear of heights, my palms began to sweat uncontrollably. We watched one young man jump, land perfectly, and resurface. That was proof enough to Annie and I that it would be safe and we geared up for our jumps. Annie went first and left me to take a picture of her.

Annie's free fall

She landed and it was my turn. There were quite a few people watching us by now, and the last thing I needed was to look like a wimp so I took a few steps back, took a deep breath, and ran for the edge. It was the longest fall EVER! It was so long, that you fell, realized you were still falling, had time to feel your stomach begin to drop, think "Holy SHIT, where is the water??" before you actually hit. I surfaced to find myself giggling with delight and screaming "Again! Again!!"

Me during my second jump

 Found this spot on our hike back up the cliff

Laughing in the water after our first jump

The next morning was our dive day. We google searched the dive location the night prior and found that is was about a two hour drive to Paphos. We wanted to get SOME sightseeing in while on Cyprus, so we decided to leave a little early and make a few stops along the way. Our first stop was at the Archaeological site of Kourion.

One of my favorite stories about Cyprus is that of the Goddess of Love and Beauty, Aphrodite. She is said to have been born on one of the beaches near Paphos, rising from the foam on the sea. Her birth place is marked, so Annie and I drove to the beach of her birth, which was one of the most beautiful spots in Cyprus. 

When we finally arrived at Coral bay in Paphos, we linked up with our diver instructor Ray (man, I think that was his name??). We had chosen to do the Amphitheater dive, and were really excited. We made sure that Ray understood the difficulties that Annie has with her buoyancy, and told him to be patient and enjoy the show. She can be very entertaining to watch sometimes. Annie warned him of my habit of singing songs from "The Little Mermaid" every time I enter the water, which is a very true statement. Really, how can you NOT sing "Under the Sea" while scuba diving??

I had just purchased an underwater case for my GoPro, and decided that my new career would be taking underwater photos. I literally took about 107, but I will not bore you with those. I have chosen just a few to share. However I will say that this dive site, although extremely lacking on underwater life due to the fact that up until recently people were still using dynamite to fish, was very cool. Due to the erosion on the rocks and limestone, it actually looks like there are underwater amphitheaters. 

Underwater Selfie

Showing off our muscles

Annie Checking out the Amphitheater

After a very successful two dives, we bought some bread, hummus and baklava and headed to a nearby shipwreck to have a picnic and watch the sun set before heading back to the other side of the island. 

For our final day in Cyprus, we decided to make use of our car one last time and drive through the mountains. We had heard from our dive instructor that there was a beautiful monastery called Kykkos that shouldn't be missed. We packed all our bags, loaded the car with our tour book in hand, and began our adventure. Since we had time, we looked up places to see along the way and discovered a small village that was known for having a church and a mosque that had been located right next to each other, where Greek Orthodox and Muslims had once lived in harmony.

If you are unaware, Cyprus is dived into two sections- the Greek area which is the majority of the island to the south, and the Turkish area to the north. The boarder is guarded by UN troops, and it is difficult to go from one to the other. During our drive, we were just miles away from the Turkish side and could see into it all the way to the northern coast. Up near the city of Nicosia in the hills, there is a painting of the Turkish flag. Anywho, we thought it would be a nice little detour to see this village, so we stopped for some photos and a coffee.

Look to the left and you can see the mosque

Fall is my favorite time of year, especially when the air is crisp and the colors of the leaves are changing. When I think of Cyprus I think of the beach and the ruins, never mountains with snow or changing foliage. So I was pleasantly surprised as we climbed up to the monastery. 

A beautiful little village 

I am not sure what I expected while visiting Kykkos, but I was taken aback by the beauty of the monastery. It was situated high on a hill in a remote area. It was quiet, magical, and awe inspiring. The monks up there make their own wine, which I will disappointingly say was not all that great, and pray in the traditional Greek Orthodox fashion. It was well worth the trip, and  I would highly recommend it to anyone visiting Cyprus.

With our time in Cyprus coming to a close, Annie and I enjoyed one final dinner in Larnaka before heading to Serbia. I will tell you of our harrowing travels and tour of Belgrade next time. 

GR20, Corsica Part V: Dehydration

9 August 2014

Beginning of Day 2

You would think a person would learn their lesson in regards to water and hydration after running out the day prior, but I didn't. I packed the same 2 liter camelback and chose not to fill the extra 1 liter bottle because I thought it would be too heavy, and that I would ration my supply better. That didn't happen.

Like the previous day, the hike started off rather well. I have found that, although exhausting, I am able to CLIMB a mountain.  Aside from one section where I felt as if I was hanging off the side of a sheer cliff, trying to get from rock to rock, with a nice little 400 ft drop, the ascent was ok. The issue for me is the descent. We made great time on the way up, right on track with the guide book which had estimated the day to be about 6.5 hours (not including rest stops). However, the final three hours of the hike were all downhill, where the traveler had to traverse a steep hill made of loose dirt and scree (thousands upon thousands of loose rocks that slip underfoot and are the cause of many a rolled ankle). Our 6.5 hours quickly turned into 11 hours due to the fact that I moved at a glacial pace, trying not to kill myself.

A nice view

The sun was out in full force this particular day, and I acquired a rather nasty sunburn on my neck and shoulders that plagued me for the duration on the hike. By day five it was so bad, that it started to scab over. This unrelenting heat also affected my water consumption, and the 6.5 hours that I planned for was how I rationed my water. By hour nine, I was starting to feel the onset of dehydration.

It comes on you pretty quickly and almost unnoticeable to the affected. My legs started shaking and giving out on me (which I thought was just me being completely out of shape), then I began to feel dizzy. I kept pushing on when I noticed that I was no longer sweating anymore and I was beginning to feel like I was going to throw up.

Tania was getting worried, wanting me to stop and rest; but the sun was blazing and I wanted shade before I stopped to rest. By hour 10, I was singing songs from "The Little Mermaid" and waving to Ariel who was perched on a rock in the distance.

"Can you hear that?" I asked Tania, stopping by a rock to catch my breath. "It sounds like water- a stream of some sort...or perhaps it is the ocean and Ariel is guiding me to my salvation!"

"It is not water, just the rustle of the breeze in the trees." I could tell, even in my delirious state, that Tania was getting worried.

"Just sit here and relax" she told me while patting my head. "I will run ahead to the refuge, it shouldn't be too much farther, and bring you back some water."

I brushed her hand away frustrated. "I am fine! I swear I hear water!!"

I got back up and continued on. It took another 20 minutes, but we eventually stumbled upon a water source, a beautiful little stream hidden in the trees.

"See??" I looked at Tania triumphantly. "I told you Ariel would save us!"

We sat by the stream for about 45 minutes. I washed my face with the cool water, and we filter enough for me to drink about 1 liter. We had tablets of electrolytes that we placed in the water bottle, and I rested and drank. My visions of Ariel disappeared to my disappointment, and we continued on to the Refuge.

During our dinner of chicken and rice, Tania retold the story of my hallucinations while I drained my blisters. Another successful day of hiking...sort of.

Tania enjoying some down time

GR20, Corsica Part IV: D-Day

8 August 2014

 

The beginning

Good fucking lord, I want to die! I would have knocked Tania over after the first 3 hours to end this miserable hike if she would have been anywhere near me, but she pretty much kicked my ass and was so far ahead that I couldn't see her at most times...Bitch.

I knew today would be difficult, a "trial by fire" as our guide books stated, with a 5,000ft ascent into oblivion. It began rather peacefully, with a constant ascent that was pretty steep and difficult, but not impossible. We made it to the first clearing in good time, and chose this point to enjoy our lunch. We ran into two Italian girls that we had met yesterday on the train to Calvi who were also sitting, enjoying the view.

About an hour into our hike

After a good 45 min break, Tania and I put our packs back on and continued to march. This is where things got dodgy. I mentioned in a previous post that this was NOT a typical trail, but rather, scrambling (which up until this point I didn't know meant that you would be needing to use your hands to climb- between mountain climbing and rock climbing). About three hours into our day, we reached our first scramble area.

First Scramble- Can you see Tania??

 

I have noted some lessons learned thus far:

 

1. Learn what a scramble is before you arrive at that portion of the trail so you don't pee in your pants in fear. I would suggest rocking climbing once or twice in advance with a bag that weighs as much as another person and see if you can do it. If not, don't go on the GR20.

 

2. If you bring walking poles, which I suggest to all that you do because they are amazing, make sure you buy the correct size. Not knowing anything about hiking poles, I just bought a pair and didn't look at them until I made it to the trail. Mine maxed out at 110cm, and I apparently need 120cm. I was hunched over in an attempt to use them during every decent. Pain in the ass.

 

3. BRING ENOUGH WATER!!! Unlike Tania who can be compared to a camel in that she can survive on one cup of water per week, I went through my camelback about halfway through the trip (I drank it as quickly as an alcoholic downs a beer after not having a drink in three days) and had to suffer the rest of the way using my saliva as hydration. That doesn't work, in case you were wondering.

 

4. Fuck food, it is too heavy. Just carry snacks and eat at the refuges

 

5. Why in G-ds name did I bring a 5lb solar panel???

 

6. I would highly suggest NOT making the GR20 the hike that pops your trekking cherry.

 

After seven hours of misery, we arrived at our first refuge where I dramatically dropped to the ground and kissed the soil that was to be my bed for the evening. We set up camp, and spent the rest of the evening eating chocolate and talking to some other travelers about the day. I popped my first blister of the hike, and stared out at the view. Day 1 complete

 

 

Our yogurt cups that we carried all 10 days



GR20, Corsica Part III- Fat Girl Pants

I think it is pretty amazing that I am on my third post about this trip, yet I haven't even begun to write about the hike. If you are hoping that this will be the post where the adventure starts, I am sorry to say that you have to wait. This post is about my fat girl pants.

Tania and I woke up on D-Day -1 (that is army speak...sorry) refreshed and excited. We were traveling from Ajaccio to Calvi where we planned on enjoying the beach and a nice meal before settling in for an early night. It was a five hour train ride total with one change in Ponte Leccia, with the first three on a spacious train where we had our own seats, a small table, and outlets to plug in our electronics. Laid out in front of us was a typical French breakfast that we had purchased from a local Boulangerie; pain au chocolate, croissants, and my personal favorite, pain au raisin. We enjoyed our leisurely breakfast as the train roared through the countryside, giving us a full view of the mountains that would be our home for the following 10 days.

Waiting for the train in Ajaccio

At Ponte Leccia, we disembarked and crossed right over to the train that would take us to Calvi; a completely different story as far as comfort. The train was packed! We spent the next two hours crunched up alongside other travelers in the aisle of a train car. We were greeted in Calvi with clear blue skies and crystal clear blue water resting against the clay background of the rocky countryside.

Calvi

We spent a beautiful afternoon on the beach, relaxing our bodies before the onslaught of pain was to begin. We decided that we would treat ourselves to a carb-filled dinner, and went back to the hotel to change. This is when the night turned to crap.

While home in California in March to visit my family, I had gone to REI to purchase some necessities for my trip to Corsica. I knew that I didn't want to carry a lot of clothing, so I figured buying a pair of those hideous pants that unzips above the knee to make shorts would be the perfect addition to my hiking wardrobe. I found a great pair on sale for $25 that fit me perfectly!! I had tried them out during my hike in the Alps and had been very pleased with them.

During the weeks following my trip to Oberammergau, I ate a lot of cake. Actually, I can't say that I ate any more than usual, but as I tried on my REI pants to wear to dinner that evening in Calvi, the reality of my weight gain was on full display because I could barely button my pants and when I did, there was a a perfect muffin top that rolled over my pants. Horrified, I started cursing REI and their crap product for shrinking after only one wash.

"How could this happen?" I cried, while stuffing a piece of ritter hazelnut chocolate into my mouth. "These are brand new pants! How could they shrink like this?!"

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, horrified that I looked like a soccer mom in high waist jeans and a FUPA (fat upper pussy area- this is how we describe that belly roll that is cut in half by the waistline of mom jeans).

It was five o'clock in the evening, the night before we were to leave for the GR20, and my wardrobe had been cut in half. There were a few stores in town where I hoped that I would be able to find some replacement pants.

There was nothing. We were told that there was an intersport on the other side of town, so we started huffing it. Our evening of relaxation was now spent running down the street, trying to find the intersport before it closed. We had no idea how far it was, and after about two miles, we realized that the only way we were going to get there was if Tania flashed her boobs to the passing cars in hopes that one would stop. Ok, she really didn't show her boobs, but it makes the story a little more exciting.

We finally found a ride and made it just in time. I found a new pair of pants for the trip and the evening was saved!! It wasn't until four days later, after days of walking hour after hour, that my REI pants fit again, that I realized that they didn't shrink and I had just needed a pair of fat girl pants to get me through until I dropped some weight.

GR20, Corsica Part II: I Would Rather Starve

Getting to Corsica can be an adventure in itself. I was traveling from Frankfurt, Germany to Ajaccio, Corsica which I thought would be an easy trip since Frankfurt is one of the main hubs in Europe. However, any time you have to fly through Paris Charles de Gaulle airport, don't. I have no idea who created the layout for this mess of an airport, but every time I have to travel through here, I overdose on macarons since it is the only thing that keeps me sane.

Last year I had decided to visit a friend that I had met during my deployment to Afghanistan. He was a pilot in the French Army, and stationed in a remote little town in the South West of France called Pau. I will be the first to say that this is truly one of the most beautiful areas I have seen in my life. The town of Pau itself is charming, but it is the countryside around it that is spectacular. Flying into the Pau airport, you are gifted with a breathtaking view of the Pyrenees. Perfectly situated just outside the Basque Country, Pau is an hour drive to the mountains in one direction, and an hour's drive to the beaches of Biarritz in the other. If it wasn't for the pain of traveling there, I would go more often.

Charles de Gaulle is set up where no matter which terminal you fly into, you will have to take a bus for a connection. In the case of Pau, landing in 2F and needing to go to 2G sounds a lot easier than it is. 2G is, at least this is what it felt like at the time, on the completely other side of Paris (ok, it is really only about a 20 min bus ride, but I do not need to continue to explain my love of exaggeration). SO when booking my flight to Ajaccio, I didn't pay any attention to my itinerary until I was standing confused in Paris. Unbeknownst to me there are two airports in Paris, Charles de Gaulle and Paris Orly which is literally an hour away by bus if there is no traffic. So, with my thousand pound backpack and a box full of Ladurée macarons, I hopped on the bus to Orly.

Although my flight to Paris was just over an hour, and the flight from Paris to Ajaccio was only 30 minutes longer, it took me 12 hours to link up with Tania in Corsica. I arrived at the Hotel Napoleon (Ajaccio is the birthplace of Napoleon, hence the name of our hotel) at 2030 that evening to find Tania passed out on the bed, drool dripping down the side of her face. She had flown all the way from Texas, so I could forgive the lack of welcome party. She woke up guns blazing, thinking I was an intruder, and I almost pissed my pants. If I haven't mentioned this before, Tania scares me. As my mother so eloquently put it when I told her I would be doing this hike with Tania, "Don't try and keep up and don't let her boss you around! We all know Tania is both physically and mentally stronger than you are."

Cowering in the corner, arms raised to protect my face to the inevitable ass kicking that is fit for an intruder, Tania realized that it was just me and relaxed her death stance. "Oh my G-d!!!" she screamed as I jumped on the bed, giving her my biggest bear hug. We spent the next hour giggling, catching up and talking about the trip. She showed me her bag, and we went over our supplies for the next 10 days.

Tania and I had talked a lot about food rations and gear, and we had decided that she would carry the tent and cooking supplies, and I would carry the food. She walked over to the closet and pulled out a box full of food. She had organized it in a way that there were three bags: breakfast, snacks and dinner. I had already contemplated pushing Tania off the side of the mountain due to my heavy bag, but as I lifted the food that I was going to be carrying, the risk to her life increased significantly. The weight of my bag has increased about 8-10 pounds (no joke- I weighed it later at the train station). This new addition has brought my bag to a whopping 40 pounds!

I put the bag on my back and pranced around the room before looking at Tania with pure hatred. "I would rather starve."

She thinks I am joking and laughs at me. All I can think is how this is going to suck...

Our bags looking innocent...looks can be deceiving

 

GR20, Corsica- Part I

It has been over a month since I returned from my trip to Corsica, yet I have yet to post anything about my experience. That is because I have needed extensive therapy to handle the trauma that was my trip, and today is the first day that I have felt well enough to share my story. Ok, I am being overly dramatic as usual, but it really was a harrowing experience. I decided to keep a journal, so these next few articles will come from that. This means you will be reading my raw emotions and I ask kindly that you do not make fun of me, especially where there is poop involved.

For those of you who do not know, the GR20 is a "trail", about 112 miles long, that runs from Northern Corsica to the South. It is mountainous terrain with over 90% of the "trail" not being a trail, but rocks, granite slabs, and cliffs leading to sure death if you make a mistake. There are sections with chains to keep you from plummeting hundreds of feet into more rocks below.

This is an example taken from Day 4

To keep me from experiencing carpel tunnel, and to keep these posts at a rather reasonable length, I have decided to break down each post to a day. Therefore, this first post will be of my travel to Corsica.

6 August 2014

Standing in line waiting to check in my backpack, I have come to the conclusion that I am completely unprepared for this trip. After 45 minutes of standing in the same place, my back is killing me and all I want to do is throw my bag off my shoulders and run out of the airport screaming "I QUIT!! I QUIT!" A normal human being preparing for a trip of this caliber would have WORN the pack at least once before the day of departure. A normal person would have, perhaps, gone on a hike with it to test the fit, the load, and the stability. I am not normal in any way, shape, or form. Procrastination at its finest came into play and the first time I strapped that bag on was as I was leaving my house. Standing in line I am beginning to wonder how I can get out of this fiasco with my pride intact.

My good friend Martha gave me a rather brilliant idea the other night over a plate of hot curry at the local Indian restaurant. She had gone on a hiking trip the previous summer through Norway with a small group from our CrossFit gym. By day four Martha, who has more muscle per square inch than anyone I know (which isn't saying much since she is only four feet tall and 50 pounds soaking wet) was ready to throw in the towel. Even though she was in fantastic shape, her little midget legs couldn't keep up with the rest of the group and it is at this point that she hatched her evil plan. Although she be but little, she is fierce...and a little sadistic.

Her plan was to knock over her best friend Kat so she would sprain/ break a leg and the hike would therefore come to an end. Hearing these words come out of her mouth made me choke on my mango lamb curry.

"You're nuts! I love you, but you're nuts!"

She looked at me, smiled her wicked little smile and said "just wait. You will be thinking the same thing soon."

Standing in line at the airport, I began to see her point...

Another topic of conversation during this memorable dinner was a few other points I had missed while planning this epic adventure. Martha, not only being completely direct when it came to her opinion, also found great joy in other people's misery. As loyal of a friend that she is, she takes great joy in the idiocy of her friends.

Martha: Did you pack a map?
Me: No, why? Do you think I need one?
Martha: Not if you have a guide
Me: I do not have a guide. I am my guide
Martha: Is the trail marked?
Me: Yes...I think
Martha: Do you have a compass?
Me: Nope! But I have a really cute blue and pink shark watch which is waterproof up to 100 meters!
Martha: And that will help you how?
Me: It won't break while drowning in my tears of misery
Martha: Have you tried on your bag yet?
Me: Yes...at the store when I bought it
Martha: Have you packed it yet? How much does it weigh?
Me: I will pack it tomorrow
Martha: You are leaving tomorrow
Me: Yes
Martha: Bless your heart (that is West Virginia speak for you're an idiot)

Yup...I am totally unprepared for this trip.

My Motorcycle Adventure...Wiesbaden to Strasbourg

For those of you who are seasoned riders, you may want to stop reading now for I am about to tell a story  about my “long distance” ride from Wiesbaden, Germany to Strasbourg, France, which you may all find a bit “over-dramatic.”

I have been on a motorcycle many times before, although always as a passenger since I am too afraid to ride one myself. I tried to drive a scooter once while living in Italy, but that ended in the unfortunate death of many bicycles. It was a warm spring evening and one of my friends was going to teach my how to drive. I will admit that I feel terrible for anyone who has to teach me driving, whether it be learning how to drive a manual car (sorry dad), a helicopter (sorry to all my instructors who had to listen to me sing Britney Spears’ “Oops, I did it again” because it was the only way I could focus after botching a maneuver), and to whomever attempts to teach me how to ride a motorcycle.

On this particular evening, I was learning on a backstreet in Florence.

“Turn the throttle towards you with the right hand,” my Italian friend told me. “Once it starts to move forward, lift your feet from the ground and put them on the scooter.”

Easier said than done. To my astonishment, as I gave this little scooter some gas and it began to move forward, I freaked out and tried to stop the forward movement by planting my feet on the ground and trying to pull the bike back to me. By doing this and not releasing the throttle, the bike went faster and I ended up flat on my face after the bike went out from under me. I looked up to the sound of screaming and the little motor bike running into about seven parked bicycles on the side of the street. My friend swore at me in Italian, which I unfortunately understood at the time, flipped me the bird, and rode off without me. I lay there on the concrete streets of Florence in utter shame, and I have not attempted to drive any type of motorbike since.

As far as being a passenger, I have gotten pretty good. The mother of an ex boyfriend of mine had a Harley, and I used to ride around with her on “flood runs.” These were days when large groups of Harley riders would come together and pretty much go on a motorized bar crawl. I don’t really know how legal this is, but we had a grand old time! I had a shirt that read “Bitch” and she wore one that read “If you can see this, the bitch fell off.”

So when Chris mentioned taking his bike to Strasbourg, I was really excited. The longest I had been on a bike for any period of time was maybe 20-30 min, the length of time between bars in rural Wisconsin. This drive was going to be a whopping 2.5 hours!

Driving through Wiesbaden was cake and I felt comfortable enough. Then we hit the autobahn. I will preface by saying that in a car, I LOVE the autobahn. Aside from a few areas, the speed limit is an advised (and yes, I said advised) 130kph. For my American friends, that is roughly 80mph. However the truth is that you can drive up to your comfort level, or your cars governor, whichever comes first. For me, my governor sets in at about 130MPH, so about 240-250kph. The autobahn on a motorcycle is an entirely different story.

I don’t think I have ever experienced the pucker effect as seriously as I did those first few minutes when we hit 85mph. All I kept thinking was “Oh my goodness!! I am a klutz! What if I fall off?? What if I just roll over to the side and fall off? Do I let go or take him down with me?”  This train of thinking lasted about an hour.

I started to relax, and by relax I mean I started to get sleepy. I have noticed that a continued vibration, like that on a motorcycle, is a gentle little lullaby that rocks me to sleep.  When I was in flight school, I learned this lesson the hard way.

Flight school was like college but with worse hours. You can’t just plan your class schedule around the idea of sleeping in, but instead end up with either PT or classes first thing in the morning. During primary, the introductory phase in flight school, we had classes that began around 5am. Not being a morning person, this had a very negative effect on my ability to stay awake.

During this phase we were learning how to fly the TH-67, which is like a jet ranger.  We were split up into teams of three, two flight students known as stick buddies, and an instructor. In the aircraft, one student would be flying and the other would be in the back and only responsible for looking out for any flight obstacles, and reading off before and after landing checks.

The problem with the back seat was the vibration of the aircraft. I found that it knocked me out! Being so sleepy all the time, it was like a cradle rocking me to sleep after a long day. It got to the point where I had trained myself to be able to sleep, but wake up when asked for the before landing checks. I would read them off, and then pass right back out until asked for the after landing checks. This went on for a while until one day when I was extremely tired.

I have no idea how it happened, all I know was that I fell asleep and the next thing I knew my instructor was shaking me awake. I looked around and noticed that we had landed, were parked, the aircraft was tied down, and my stick buddy and instructor had all their gear packed and ready to leave. It was humiliating.

Back on the motorcycle, it was the fear of death that kept me awake when my eyes started to droop. Now wide awake and little more comfortable, I started to really enjoy the ride. What surprised me the most were the smells.

When riding in a car you don’t have the same experience as when you are on a bike. The wind, the feeling of flying, and how you can literally smell everything! I felt like I was completely engulfed in my surroundings. I could smell the bitterness of the vineyards while driving through the Rheingau, the strong and sour smell of the onions as we drove though onion patches, and the sweet smell of flowers that were blooming.

I was pretty proud at how well I was doing until we hit about 1 hour 45 min. At this point my butt started to hurt. It started off slow, with a subtle tingle, before it went into full blown uncomfortable.  This could be partly because of my utter lack of a bum, inheriting my father’s flat ass with no cushion to support a long ride. Whatever the cause, my last 45 minutes were wrapped around how I couldn’t wait to get off the bike. When I saw the exit sign for Strasbourg, I felt like dancing for joy.

I have heard many a wonderful thing about Strasbourg and have wanted to visit for years. Chris and I arrived and checked into our hotel before heading out on the town.  One of my favorite ways to discover a city is by just walking around and getting lost. This is exactly what we did, however we ended up getting pretty drunk in the process.

 Strasbourg

The beautiful Cathedral in Strasbourg



I will give us credit that we at least made it to the church before our first drop of alcohol, but from there it went downhill. Neither of us had eaten and we were saving up our appetite for dinner that evening, so the beer and wine hit us both pretty hard. We stumbled from one bar to the next, returning twice to one particular Belgian beer bar that was the icing on the intoxicated cake.

At about 2130, we stumbled into the cheese restaurant (the name totally eludes me) where we had a reservation. I am not really sure what we expected from this dinner, but we definitely fell into the idiotic American category. We had heard that the fondue was great there, so we ordered a pot. Our waitress, who obviously saw us in a vulnerable state, mentioned that we would perhaps like to sample two different pots of cheese.

“Of course we would” was my response in my broken attempt at speaking French, raising my glass of wine to the waitress!

How real people drink wine

 

I think we both thought that these would be “sample” pots of fondue. We were sadly mistaken. The chef brought out two HUGE pots of boiling cheese and a basket of bread. It sounds amazing, and the first few bites were, but after being “manchestered” to eat both pots after I made the claim that I could eat it all on my own, I started to go into a cheese coma. What we didn’t realize when we ordered, was that one pot of cheese was 27 euros and ALL YOU CAN EAT! 70 euros later and feeling like absolute ass, we stumbled back to our hotel and passed out. Very romantic.

We woke up the next morning with a cheese hangover and made the decision to head out of Strasbourg early to beat the rain. We packed up our stuff and headed back on the road.

One of the coolest things about riding around Europe is that there are always great places to stop and sightsee along the way. Both Chris and I love WWII history and just outside of Strasbourg is part of the Maginot Line, a line of concrete fortifications constructed near the border of Germany by France as a response to their experience witht he Germance during WWI. Although rendered pretty useless during the war since the Germans invaded through Belgium, it was still a very impressive site with many WWII artifacts.

 

 



After spending 40 minutes walking around, we jumped back on the bike in a race against the rain which would have had a very negative effect of my recent keratin treatment. The more I write, the more I realize how much of a pansy I can be. Damn.

The ride home was a lot better for me. I knew what to expect and I was a little more relaxed. I put on a great music mix of Chris Pureka and Lana del Ray on my iPod, and listened to “Ride” while singing at the top of my lungs (to Chris’ utter dismay).

I now feel like a very seasoned rider and ready to conquer the world!! Ok, maybe I will start with a four hour ride first…